


flying solo (but you'll catch me if i fall)

by long_live



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, F/F, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/long_live/pseuds/long_live
Summary: “Do you hate me too, Jisoo?”And Jisoo tangles the blankets with how fast she rolls over. Jennie’s staring back at her with pupils dilated in the darkness, catlike, gleaming only because of the sheen of water clinging to their surface. So many years later, and yet somehow everything has been leading them right back to the beginning....In the aftershocks following Jennie's solo announcement, Jisoo's not afraid of falling. She already has, years ago. But the girl Jisoo fell for is so far out of her reach that it can only mean one thing: for Jennie, there's a long, long way down.





	1. love you

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a one-shot inspired by the announcement of Solo, because I... (was inspired? motivated? moved?) had to write this, really, after seeing the follow-up to it.
> 
> Guys, please love and support BP. It's what they all deserve.
> 
> That being said, I'm sure this is not how things went at all in regards to the four of them or even YG himself, though I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Before they see it, which they never will, people often imagine their CEO’s office to be neat and orderly.

It’s rather counterintuitive, because most of their fans hate Yang Hyun Suk, with the smug way he carries himself, his somewhat-obnoxious hat, and above all, his tendency to leave them hanging for months on end by locking his artists in a dungeon to rot.

Kim Jisoo hates him for that last one, too, just a little.

But the thing is, he’s not _that_ bad. Jisoo is sure he has his reasons for those breaks— in their case, a year that seemed to last forever— and it’s not as if they’re mistreated in any way. Well, yes, his criticisms can be a bit harsh, because there are some things people just can’t change about themselves, no matter how much they want to. Especially since he’s been looking down on plastic surgery lately.

And it’s not as if he only values appearances; no, it’s common knowledge that YG has always put talent first. He isn’t anywhere near nice about it, but he’s almost always right, and it’s clear now because the public _loves_ them. As the visual, Jisoo knows better than anyone how much of that is for shallow reasons, as bad as it sounds.

Then there’s those who truly do love them for their talent: for the way the words spill from Jennie’s lips like liquid fire, beautiful to witness but tinted with an edge of danger; for the way Lisa lets the music surge through her body and sculpt her movements into untamed beauty; for the way Chaeyoung strums at her guitar and leans over the microphone to breathe out a tentative melody; for the way Jisoo… 

Well.

Look, Jisoo knows she isn’t untalented by any sense of the word— she’s realistic, not negative to the point of delusion. Surviving half a decade of trainee life in a Big 3 company has to mean something, but out of the four of them? There’s no contest. What can Kim Jisoo offer to BLACKPINK that they don’t already have? She’s never been able to dance like the rest of them, Jennie’d make as good a visual as Jisoo has ever been, and she’s a decent singer but Chaeyoung is something else entirely.

Jisoo is the least valuable member, and every social media site or poll or news article knows that just as well as she does. Maybe the only people who don’t are the three sitting next to her right now.

It’s a familiar position they’re in, crowded uncomfortably around the opposite side of this desk meant for one man. But they make it work, because of all things their group has never had a problem with being too close to each other.

Where was she? Ah, back to the office. It’s not clean and tidy at all, and that’s part of the reason they’re so cramped right now. Papers are stacked on the edges, mountainous on the mahogany, nearly tipping over their unbalanced bases. The computer keyboard requires a deep dive through several layers of CDs to reach. Dusty CDs, probably demos from solo artists he’d never release.

It’s too much to hope for new music whenever they have one of these meetings with YG, but they all can’t help it. They’ve already started preparing for next year’s comeback, but Jisoo had no doubt they’ll keep rehearsing it for months that bring little improvement and only end up exhausting them until they’re bored of the music by the time they release it. Saying months is generous, because As If It’s Your Last grew old around the seventieth performance. And pretty much all the songs from Square Up had been ready before they’d even debuted, so despite their best efforts to hide it, this comeback had been less, well, spectacular. But it remained their biggest to date: Ddu-du Ddu-du is still charting in the top ten though promotions had wrapped up now, four months after its release.

With some effort, Jisoo tells herself to stop being bitter, because to her right Jennie squeezes her hand nervously. Jisoo needs to get through this so Jennie, the one who’s always been the most affected by their long hiatuses, can as well. Despite the fact that it’s still not clear what “this” is.

Sajangnim clears his throat and shuffles the papers he’s been shuffling for three minutes some more. Jisoo wants to rip them from his hand and stuff them into the bin by his desk.

So much for not being bitter. She’s so wrapped up in that fantasy that she almost misses it when he finally speaks. “Girls,” he says in his particular way, “we all know your last comeback was very successful.”

They nod; then, from Jisoo’s side, Jennie blurts, “So is our next soon?”

Jisoo laughs to herself a little— Jennie’s always been bold when it comes to this aspect of things, because she knows what she wants, and maybe that’s what YG likes about her. Across the desk, he does the same, which for no legitimate reason makes Jisoo want to slap that infuriating smile right off his face.

“That’s the purpose of today’s meeting,” he replies, and the four of them shoot each other equally astonished expressions. “We plan to release new music before the end of the year.”

 _Two_ comebacks in half a year?! For a YG group? Granted, their male counterparts in iKON had recently received theirs a week ago; not that Jisoo’s implying their CEO is biased or anything.

In all seriousness, she’s amazed. And so are the others, from the looks of it: Chaeyoung is openly gaping at him, Lisa is on the edge of her seat like she’s about to jump out of it and rejoice, and Jennie is gripping Jisoo’s hand tighter under the desk as if she’s afraid she might wake up from a dream.

Then Sajangnim adds, “A solo debut, that is.”

A _solo_ debut?! This early? Granted, BIGBANG had done the same thing and turned out fine, but so had 2NE1, and everyone knows what happened to them. And even they had far more than BLACKPINK’s current nine (nine!) songs when they’d released their first solo projects.

The thrilled atmosphere from earlier has dissipated following this new revelation. Lisa has sunk back into her chair, almost sulkily; Chaeyoung’s eyes are narrowed in thought. There’s just so many questions that come with this. What about the songs they’ve already been rehearsing? Is their comeback as a group just going to get delayed for another year? And finally, but most importantly… who’s debuting?

Jisoo thinks she knows, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to, because only seconds later their CEO says, “Jennie, you’ll be heading to the studio sometime soon to prepare the song.”

Jennie looks shocked, but she’s the only one. Jisoo’s honestly not surprised: it makes sense, Jennie is their most well-rounded member, encompassing rap and vocals and dance all in one. Lisa seems indifferent as well; Jisoo thinks she probably doesn’t mind too much, having just filmed several dance teasers of her own for the new YG academy project. And Chaeyoung… Chaeyoung’s fighting to keep her expression blank, but the disappointment stands out there clear as day.

Jisoo can sort of understand: as the main vocalist, Chaeyoung has the right to be upset about not being chosen for the first solo project. But at the same time, Jisoo can’t relate at all, because she’d hardly hope to set any sort of expectations for her own music.

“I— thank you very much!” Jennie disentangles her hand from Jisoo’s to clasp her other, proffering what she can of a bow in this limited space. It’s kind of awkward, but cute anyway.

Sajangnim waves her off. “Practice it a few times first. You’ll get it recorded as soon as possible and then we’ll have a video filmed to release in late November or December. In London.”

Jennie’s mouth opens and closes again. Wow, their CEO is going all in on this if he’s going for a music video in a foreign country. Just days ago he’d turned down an offer to record what could have been one of their biggest videos ever for their collaboration with Dua Lipa. Despite Jisoo’s initial doubts, it looks like those “scheduling conflicts” did actually exist, considering this unexpected announcement.

“That’s all for now. You’re dismissed.” Sajangnim goes back to shuffling his papers.

“Excuse me,” says Chaeyoung tentatively, as if she herself can hardly believe she has the guts to ask this, “Will the rest of us be releasing any music? As a soloist or as a group?”

YG stares at her; Jisoo thinks he genuinely hadn’t expected this sort of question. “That has not yet been decided. Of course, you will have your group comeback by some time next year, but continue with your rehearsals regularly for now, as we will not release until everything has been perfected.”

“I see.” Chaeyoung gets to her feet and bows too. “Thank you.”

The rest of them follow her lead. Jennie still seems stunned, but slowly Jisoo can see the enthusiasm settling in. Jennie has wanted this for a long, long time, she knows: before BLACKPINK debuted, ever since she left her education and life behind for an uncertain future in the industry. Even so, there’s also a measure of tightness in her stance: uncertainty over her bandmates’ opinions, Jisoo assumes.

Lisa is the first to speak on the elevator ride down. “I can’t believe it, unnie!” She claps her hands together and sends their main rapper a sincere smile. “I know you’ll do amazing.”

Some of the apprehension seeps out from Jennie’s shoulders. “Thanks, Lisa. But I wish it would’ve been a group comeback… I mean, we’re not fully established yet, and I feel like…”

“Don’t,” Jisoo interrupts as Jennie trails off, though she doesn’t feel like clarifying that command. “It’s okay, Jennie-ya. You’ve worked super hard for this. And it’s not like our comeback would have been anytime soon either way.”

Jennie nods, hesitantly, and glances at Chaeyoung as best as she can without making it too obvious. So do Lisa and Jisoo, with some amount of anticipation.

“Congratulations,” says Chaeyoung eventually, apparently oblivious to the scrutiny she’s under.

Jennie beams, and her joy bounces off the mirrors of the elevator and brightens the entire space.

\----

As expected, Jennie is out of their dorm for most of the following few days, leaving early in the morning with their manager and only returning from the studio for dinner.

She’s been remarkably excited for the debut. Jisoo is only an observer, really, to the way her face lights up whenever she talks about the amazing new song she’s been recording (appropriately titled Solo); and also to the way Chaeyoung’s gets a little more strained each time she sits through another of Jennie’s animated speeches.

They perform at the SBS Super Concert later that week, and everything goes perfectly. Jennie’s spirits are higher than ever, and it shows. She dances with new energy, sings each note right on pitch, and raps her part in both songs without a hitch in breath.

Jisoo can’t help but be happy when Jennie’s happy. She finds herself grinning like an idiot when she lays her hand on the other girl’s chest during Ddu-du Ddu-du, and Jennie pushes back against her before snapping away in that slow roll. Tomorrow, Naver will go wild with photos of Jisoo, and fans will rave about how she’s never looked better; but for Jisoo’s part, she can’t take her eyes off Jennie right now.

(On a side note, Jisoo might be the only one who catches how Chaeyoung seems a little off at rehearsals. She’s fine during the live performance, but something about it all makes Jisoo uneasy.)

\----

The morning after the concert, Jisoo gets up early to eat breakfast with Jennie, fussing over her hair and her scarf and her coat because it’s just so cold outside. Jennie giggles and bats her hands away lightly. “I’ll be _fine_ , unnie, leave it," but still Jisoo worries and worries because it’s ingrained in her nature to protect this girl.

After the door swings shut behind her, Jisoo heads to the bathroom she and Chaeyoung share to brush her teeth, only to encounter the other in front of the mirror, violently combing her hair.

“What’s up?” Jisoo prods cautiously, though she knows the answer. “You’ve been acting, um, weird.”

“Have I?” Chaeyoung retorts, even as she slaps the brush down on the counter with more strength than necessary. “I can’t _possibly_ imagine why.”

“Chaeng,” Jisoo says with a small sigh, “if this is about the solo, you and I both know that Jennie—”

“Why would I care about Jennie’s debut?” snaps the younger girl. “I mean, you said it yourself, she’s worked harder than all of us, so she deserves it the most, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” she protests.

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “Save it,  _unnie_. We all know what you meant.”

Jisoo’s fingers misses the other girl’s arm by an inch as she storms out of the bathroom.

\----

When Jennie comes home that evening, she looks bewildered to find only Jisoo sitting at the dinner table.

“Chaeng and Lisa already ate,” Jisoo explains. She heard them here earlier, arguing and banging pots and pans; it sounded like Lisa was trying to calm Chaeyoung down, but to no avail.

“Oh.” Jennie frowns down at the food Jisoo’s set out for her. “I know I’ve been… a lot lately. Sorry. It’s just exciting, yeah? I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” Jisoo says, focused on carefully pushing the plate towards the other girl. It’s hard for her to look directly at Jennie like this. “It’s okay. That’s not why; they were just hungry.”

“Oh.” Jennie picks up her chopsticks and taps them against the table absentmindedly. “That’s good.”

They don’t talk anymore after that, at least until Jennie’s finished her food and turns to Jisoo with confusion. “You’ve barely eaten anything, unnie!”

Jisoo didn’t, because she spent most of her time too distracted to eat and ended up just staring at Jennie. She had to glance away when Jennie’s shirt rode up a little as she reached over to retrieve the soy sauce, and now she thinks Jennie is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even like this in a loose white tee hanging off her thin frame and with her hair tied up messily to keep it from getting into their dinner.

Jisoo doesn’t tell her any of that. Instead, she says, “Don’t rush me, Jendeukie! I eat slowly.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” she claims sagely. “Food is an art that should be appreciated fully. And that’s what I do.”

“You do not!” Jennie argues, but she’s biting her lip to keep the corners from turning up. Jisoo lets out a groan because she knows _exactly_ what Jennie’s going to say next. “Remember that time we went out and you bought those chicken skewers? I wanted to ask you for one but you already—”

“Shh!” Jisoo stands up suddenly; the chair skids across the tile floor as she leans across the table, cutting Jennie off with a dramatic finger to her mouth. “No, I don’t remember, and it’s time to stop bringing that up every time we talk about food.”

Jennie swats her hand away, a glint of mirth in her eyes now. Jisoo could watch this version of her all day. “It’s your own fault for not eating!”

“Well, if it bothers you that much, you’ll just have to wait for me to finish, won’t you?” Jisoo pokes playfully at Jennie’s famously squishy cheeks with her pinky, before pulling back to sit down again.

To her surprise, Jennie stops her, catching Jisoo’s finger by hooking her own around it and grinning up at her. “What about this? Do you remember this?”

Jisoo’s heart jolts in her chest, then flutters faster than ever. How could she forget? Jennie had met her eyes, locked their fingers together, and chained Jisoo’s heart to hers with a simple promise to stay.

And now, now Jennie has that same kind of intensity in her gaze, and Jisoo— hopeless, pathetic Jisoo— can do nothing but say in her typically light-hearted manner, “Of course I remember, Jennie-ya. Now can you let go? Because my legs are getting tired.”

“ _Unnie_!” Jennie huffs as she drops Jisoo’s hand, like she’s genuinely disappointed that the moment is ruined. Then, a few seconds later and a lot more urgently, she yelps, “Unnie! The _gamjatang_!”

Jisoo’s been unconsciously lowering her face towards Jennie’s this entire time. She looks down to discover that the hem of her light blue, expensive blouse is dipping into Lisa’s favorite orange soup.

Talk about ruining the moment. But a few feet away, Jennie’s bent double with laughter, so that’s that.

\----

In the very beginning, it was the two of them who became friends first, sharing a room in a new and foreign world. And the night before one of their first evaluations, Jennie had clambered up on the edge of her bed when Jisoo was already half-asleep, with only the glow of the night light illuminating her face, and confided to her, “I’m scared. What if I’m bad? What if I fail?”

“You won’t,” Jisoo responded with a confidence in Jennie that only a sixteen-year-old could offer, even if she didn’t feel the same way about herself. She’d pushed aside the blankets, sitting up so Jennie could lean her head on her shoulder. “You’re the best one here. If anyone fails, it’ll be me.”

“Don’t say that.” Jennie turned over Jisoo’s hand from where it rested on her knee, tracing the lines on Jisoo’s palm with the tip of her pinky; it tickled. “I’m not better than you,” she’d insisted.

But Jisoo just shook her head and closed her fingers around Jennie’s, trapping it there for a moment before letting go. Jennie’s skin was soft, delicate against Jisoo’s and slightly cool from the winter air; it mysteriously struck Jisoo with the urge to do something ridiculous and childlike.

She slid her own pinky down Jennie’s and intertwined them. “How about this, then? We’ll both make it through. And if you don’t, well, neither will I.”

“Are you telling me we should stick with each other?” Jennie said it like she expected Jisoo to snicker at her, but she didn’t, and so neither of them spoke for a long while until she lifted her head off Jisoo’s shoulder and looked straight at the older girl. “Okay, then. Let’s stay together.”

Jennie ended up falling asleep in her bed that night, so Jisoo had pulled the blanket over them both and didn’t mind when Jennie snuggled closer.

\----

There’s no point in denial. Jisoo’s in love with Jennie and she knows it.

So. She isn’t confused about whether or not she’s in love. The real question is, when did it happen? When did Jisoo’s feelings for the other girl cross over from friendship to this? What was the point in time when everything changed?

Jisoo thinks that it’s impossible to pinpoint a single moment. At most, she can only narrow it down, bring up memories she shared with Jennie and wonder, _did I love her yet_?

Here’s the best she can do: somewhere between their awkward trip together to the sauna and the night of the promise, as Jisoo likes to call it, she became best friends with Jennie. Sometime between then and now, she proceeded to fall in love with her best friend.

That’s a wide range of time, and maybe it’s because Jisoo fell slowly. Like, maybe for her, love wasn’t so much of a terrifying plummet, a free-fall with only one possible end. Jisoo fell like a girl with a parachute, a kite sinking through the air when the breeze could no longer hold it up, a cherry blossom drifting down from its tree at precisely five centimeters per second.

That doesn’t mean she’ll never hit the ground; it just means it’ll hurt less when she does. And that’s as good as it gets, Jisoo supposes.

Jennie is… well, it’s hard not to love Jennie. Jennie’s been right there by her side through everything and also happens to be one of the kindest, most caring people she knows. So for Jisoo, yeah, it’s hard— impossible, even— not to love Jennie.

She wishes she could say the same about the rest of the world.

Jennie has one of those faces that make the person behind them seem cold and unwelcoming, but she’s not like that. Jisoo’s told their fans this a couple times through interviews, but she still can’t believe how different Jennie is than she initially seemed.

Jisoo’s not saying Jennie’s _perfect_ — she has her moments of irrationality and lashing out and overdoing the sarcasm— but who is? Jennie’s not perfect, but she’s so much better than anyone gives her credit for.

Jennie craves affection; Jisoo knows this from experience. Jennie likes to cuddle into her side at odd places and odd times, likes to link their arms together and lean her head on Jisoo’s shoulder. She’s seen the fan videos herself, recalls that one time at the airport when Jennie’d been a little too drained after a long flight and walked straight up to Jisoo to tuck her head into the place where the older girl’s collarbone curved into her neck, unflinching despite the examination of a hundred cameras.

Some of their fans think Jisoo should be the leader, purely because of the way the other members seek her out for comfort. Those fans probably also think Jisoo’s the strongest out of all of them; after all, she’s never, ever cried on live or recorded broadcast. In fact, it’s rare even for the members to see Jisoo in such a state. When asked, the maknaes had to think for several minutes before coming up with a lone instance where they’d witnessed her cry: it’d been after Jennie hurt her ankle during their Boombayah debut stage.

She’s not _that_ sensitive about Jennie’s physical well-being— Jisoo has never doubted that she is capable of taking care of herself. But Jennie'd been so disappointed and convinced that the fans would scoff at an idol who messed up on their first stage, so Jisoo couldn’t help a few tears about it later, in the privacy of their dorm.

Jisoo doesn’t think she’s the strongest member of BLACKPINK. She thinks that distinction goes to Jennie, because Jennie is scared of literally _everything_ but pushes past it all anyway.

Jisoo wishes the camera had caught her reaction when Jennie announced brazenly on Running Man that she wanted to take on the Horror Room challenge, because she’d mouthed, _are you insane?_ at her friend. Jisoo simply did not comprehend why Jennie, who could barely hold a hedgehog without whimpering and cringing away, chose to be scared nearly out of her wits.

Still, the show’s cast had been right, Jennie is awfully cute when she cries. That is, when she’s crying because of something stupid and not huddled alone in her room with only Kai and Kuma for company.

Jisoo’s a bad friend. She never knows how to fix it when Jennie gets like that. Jisoo wishes she could go online and just tell all those idiots sitting behind the protection of a computer screen everything she’s been holding in for a while now: to _think_ about the people they’re insulting so harshly. But she can’t. And she also can’t force YG to give them comebacks, which is the only other thing that can make Jennie truly cry.

But as Jisoo observed a few days ago— and this is the weirdest thing— Jennie isn’t as timid when it comes to their music. Consistently, she’s the only one out of the four of them who dares to pressure YG with questions about their next comeback.

Maybe it doesn’t accomplish anything. But maybe their CEO likes Jennie’s boldness, because the last time she traipsed up to his office for a meeting, he’d posted on his Instagram teasing their comeback.

The point is, such audacity seems totally out of character for someone like Jennie, and Jisoo isn’t sure the exact reason she becomes so brave. If she had to guess, she’d say it’s because Jennie _loves_ music, loves singing and dancing and rapping on a stage enough to confront an intimidating CEO for its sake.

In a convoluted way, it works. If only the things Jisoo loves can make her cry, then shouldn’t it make sense that only the things Jennie loves can make her fearless?

\----

Lunch the next day is another three-person event; Jisoo recalls that Jennie’s already finished recording and is now practicing the choreography for her new song. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung avoids any eye contact with her and Lisa picks at her food, clearly distressed.

It’s horrible, because today Chaeyoung’s going to a fashion event in the afternoon, Alexander McQueen or something, and Lisa’s second dance video is dropping as well. Today was supposed to be good by every definition of the word, and it’s shaping up to be the opposite.

BLACKPINK doesn’t have a leader, and Jisoo would never presume to occupy that position, but they clearly need one right now. So the second Lisa finally succeeds in impaling the last, elusive grain of rice on her extremely impractical fork, Jisoo gets to her feet, moving to block the doorway to the hall.

“Neither of you are leaving this room until we talk,” she says sternly. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, unnie?” Lisa looks anxiously at Chaeyoung for guidance. “Nothing’s going on.”

If Jisoo knew a more exasperated gesture than an eye roll, she would use it. “Maybe not with you. But I think Chaeyoung has something to say.”

“She doesn’t—” Lisa starts, but is almost instantly interrupted by the girl in question.

“Thanks, but I can talk for myself. You want to know what I think, Jisoo?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Chaeyoung shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I think it’s wrong. The solo.”

“Oh?”

“It shouldn’t even be happening! Why are we having one of our members debut solo right after our biggest comeback yet? We don’t even have a full album out as a group. It just doesn’t add up.”

Jisoo looks over at Lisa. “And you? Do you agree with her?”

“I, uh,” stutters Lisa, “it’s cool with me. Obviously I’d like a BLACKPINK comeback, but I don’t mind.”

Indignantly, Chaeyoung whirls to face her. “That’s not what you were saying earlier. You told me you think it’s unfair too!”

“Chaeng,” Lisa says, panic written plainly on her face, “don’t.”

“Don’t _what_ , Lisa? Somebody has to say it.”

“I seriously don’t think you should—”

“No, let her,” Jisoo interrupts their two-way conversation. She crosses her arms and takes a step closer to Chaeyoung, but the other girl doesn’t back away. “I want to hear. Why’s the solo so unfair, huh?”

“Because it’s always Jennie!” the other girl bursts out. “Did you _listen_ to him? They’re flying her to London to film a music video! We’ve never done that for our grand total of six music videos!”

“So what? Who cares where they film the video?”

“It’s not about _where_ it is! Sajangnim already has it all planned out! And that’s so much of a difference from his plans for BLACKPINK. We’ve been preparing our next comeback for a month already, and he says we’re still not ready but gives Jennie a song to record immediately. She even has an idea of when it’ll actually be released. Ours ‘has not yet been decided,’ what bullsh—”

“Aren’t you happy for her?” Jisoo demands. “She would be for you! She’s your bandmate and your friend!”

“I _am_ happy for her!” Chaeyoung rakes her fingers heatedly through her hair. “It’s not about Jennie, though. Don’t tell me you want to wait another goddamn _year_ to release, what, four songs?”

“Guys,” Lisa interjects abruptly; her visage is painted with muted horror.

Jisoo has no time to deal with her. “I want a comeback too! But you don’t see me whining about—”

“Jisoo, admit it already! Sajangnim always liked her more than us. You of all people should know that; he barely gives you _any_ promotion and I know how much you hate it!”

“Guys!” Lisa raises her voice over them. “Stop it!”

For a second time, she goes ignored. Both of them are breathing heavily now, one tense with pent-up resentment and the other with defensive anger. Jisoo glowers up at Chaeyoung. “That might be true, but it’s not _Jennie’s_ fault. I’m not going to blame her for that and you shouldn’t either!”

“I _know_ it’s not her fault, okay?!” Chaeyoung’s hands have been yanked out of her pockets and are clenched into fists at her sides. “Listen, I auditioned for YG six years ago because I wanted to release music for the whole world to hear. And so far, that’s not what we’ve been doing. We don’t even have ten songs, and at this rate we’ll break up before we release twenty!”

“Chaeyoung…” Jisoo says, softening. “I get it, I do. Just hang in there a bit longer.”

Chaeyoung shakes her head. “I can’t anymore, unnie. I can’t keep wasting time sitting around while Jennie’s off promoting a solo. It’s like, Sajangnim doesn’t think we’re as good as she is, and I don’t think that’s true. Don’t we all deserve it as much as Jennie? Or— or maybe even _more_? But it’s going to be her anyway, and you know what, Jisoo, I _hate_ it.”

“Guys,” Lisa repeats a third time into the pause before Jisoo can come up with a reply. Lisa barely exhales the word; it’s much, much softer than the last two, but somehow this is the one that finally draws their attention. She and Chaeyoung look away from each other, and that’s when they finally notice what Lisa’s been trying to tell them this entire time.

Jennie’s standing in the doorway that Jisoo had been blocking earlier, carrying two bags Jisoo recognizes from the nearby restaurant they sometimes eat at. She looks down at her hands mutely; she’s wearing gloves because Jisoo had pleaded incessantly until she finally agreed to put them on, and the straps have dug indentations into their fleecy material.

“You’re back early,” Jisoo points out unnecessarily as Jennie lowers the bags to the ground.

Jennie blinks back at her slowly and says nothing. Neither do the rest of them.

Out of nowhere, there’s a loud clang from their right; Lisa’s knocked one of the forks into the sink she’s leaning against. It seems to snap Jennie out of her trance, but when she speaks it’s still like she’s fighting to escape quicksand. “They told me to take a break for the rest of the day. I thought I’d… get some food for you guys, but it looks like you already ate.”

“Jennie,” Jisoo says her name helplessly. She considers taking a step forward, but her feet are firmly rooted to the ground. Besides, Jennie isn’t even looking at her.

Jennie whispers, “Chaeyoung-ah?”

“Unnie,” says Chaeyoung, inexplicably fascinated by a tile on the kitchen floor, “I didn’t mean—”

She stops herself there, because she meant every word and all four of them know it. “Sorry.”

“It’s— I— that’s okay, Rosie,” Jennie says faintly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jisoo notes the name change, because it means Jennie’s distancing herself, slipping into her public persona.

Jennie’s gaze darts down to the bags on the floor and then up at Jisoo this time. Her eyes are not quite dry. The room is frozen, but Jisoo feels uncomfortably hot, a sense of disquiet creeping up her spine.

Finally, Jennie breaks it, “You guys can eat it if— if you want to.”

She backs away, disappearing around the corner, and Jisoo knows her well enough that even without seeing her, she can tell by the almost-silence of Jennie’s footsteps on the hardwood floor that she’s trying not to run.

For a full fifteen seconds, nobody moves. Then Lisa tears herself from where she’s backed into the counter and, shooting Chaeyoung a look of reproach, sprints down the hall after Jennie.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jisoo says, turning back to Chaeyoung.

“There’s a lot of things people shouldn’t do.” Chaeyoung catches Jisoo’s glare deliberately, daringly, and there’s no subtlety in the way she words it, “But they do it anyway, right, unnie?”

Jisoo can’t stay here with her anymore. She heads after the other two, footsteps echoing off the corridor walls, and finds Lisa standing outside a locked door.

“Jennie!” Lisa yells, banging on the door, and it must be the fourth or fifth time she’s called the other girl’s name because her voice goes hoarse at the end of it. “Jen!”

There’s no answer, of course. In fact, there’s absolutely nothing: no sobbing from inside the room, no rustling of bedsheets, no signs of life at all.

Lisa lets her hands slide down the door and pivots on her heel, slumping back against the wooden frame. Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, she says, “Unnie, what do we _do_?”

Jisoo has no answer for her.

\----

Jennie doesn’t come out of her room for the rest of the day. Late that night, Jisoo raps her knuckles on the door and calls hopefully, “Jendeukie?”

But nobody answers and she meets only the resistance of the lock when she tries to turn the handle, so she leaves the dinner plate outside her door and backs away quietly.

Hours later, Jisoo peeks out of her bedroom and it’s still there, gone cold and untouched. She imagines Jennie hugging her pillow, scrolling past pink flower emojis on an instagram caption from a few days ago to come across black letters on a white screen spelling out, _hate you, fake, disgusting, ugly whore_.

\----

Jisoo remembers an interview they’d given what feels like centuries ago, where the man had asked them, “ _What will you do in your 30s_?”

They’d all been chuckling at Lisa’s ridiculous response to the previous question, but that silenced them pretty quickly. Chaeyoung was the first to answer, “ _I hope I’ll continue making music._ ”

Jisoo doesn’t remember what she herself told the interviewer, but she does remember Jennie looking over at her and a slow smile spreading over her face as she said, “ _I hope I’m a step closer to happiness_.”

They’re nowhere near their thirties yet, but look what those wishes have brought them.

\----

Jisoo’s not going to try and argue that Jennie doesn’t get the most promotion out of the four of them, but it’s not a matter of _favoritism_. Jennie’s popular in Korea and that’s a fact; she only gets the gigs because companies ask for her. It’s not like YG went up to Cass Beer and commanded them to choose Jennie.

Anyway, she could go on all day about this but she won’t bother. It never makes a difference anyway.

Jisoo is, of course, firmly on Jennie’s side here. But she can see where Chaeyoung is coming from. And Jisoo can also tell her bandmate does feel bad about what happened, because in the middle of the night when she’d checked on the food left outside Jennie’s bedroom, she’d seen Chaeyoung outside her door. But their main vocalist had only stood there for several minutes before resting her head against it with a low groan of frustration and leaving without a single word.

This is all Jisoo’s doing. All she’d wanted was for the four of them to be a family, to talk it out. But if she hadn’t pushed Chaeyoung into that rant, if she’d just let the younger girl _be_ , Jennie would never have walked in on them and Chaeyoung would have…

Would have what? Let her resentment simmer until it boiled over and scorched them beyond repair?

Jisoo doesn’t know. Maybe it was avoidable or maybe it wasn’t; either way, she’s grateful that both of her bandmates are far too cautious for any of their fans to notice the tension between them. Jisoo feels certain that come their next public appearance, they’ll act like nothing has happened at all.

That’s… not necessarily a good thing. But what it does mean is that nobody will start talking about how their friendships are “faked” or other similar drivel again. Which is utterly absurd, because it’s obvious to anyone with the slightest ounce of common sense that the four of them truly are close friends.

The problem is, even the best of friends get into arguments like this. The real test is whether or not they can get past it.

Jisoo really, really hopes they can.

\----

The next morning Jennie is there like usual, bringing a spoonful of eggs listlessly to her mouth.

“Hey.” Jisoo sits down next to her and inches her chair nearer to Jennie’s. She’s not sure where to start. “You know Chaeyoung doesn’t actually blame you.”

Jennie swallows her last mouthful of breakfast with a strange sound, like a cross between a hiccup and a sob. “Okay. That doesn’t mean it’s not my fault.”

“Jennie-ya.” Jisoo takes Jennie’s left hand away from where she’s pressing it down into her thigh and cradles it in hers, uncurling each of her fingers one by one. Jennie’s grown her nails out long again, and now there’s deep scarlet crescents in her palm that match their polish. “What could you have done?”

She doesn’t reply. With her other hand, Jisoo brushes back the curtain of hair that’s fallen to shield the side of Jennie’s face and tucks it behind her ear to get a better view of her face. Jennie doesn’t look up at her. Jisoo can see only the corners of her eyes, and they too are red.

“Jennie-ya,” Jisoo murmurs again, moving close enough that their arms brush together. “It’ll be okay.”

“Will it?” Jennie says. Her voice doesn’t shake, but Jisoo can hear the devastation in it. “Can you _really_ tell me that, Jisoo, that it’ll all be okay?”

This time, Jisoo is the one that doesn’t reply. Instead, she slides her hand out from underneath Jennie’s and rests in on top of the other girl’s so that their pinkies form a cross. But Jennie makes no move to curve her finger around Jisoo’s; in fact, she hardly reacts at all, and that’s what makes her realize that this is even worse than she originally thought.

“Unnie,” and Jennie’s voice is shaking now, “if Chaeng reacted like this, how do you think the fans will?”

Jisoo contemplates her choices. She could say, _they won’t care_ , but that’d be an obvious lie; or _it doesn’t matter_ , but that’d make no sense because the lives of idols like them are built around their fans; or lastly, _no matter what I’ll be here for you_ , but in the end Jisoo— hopeless, pathetic Jisoo— says nothing.

Jennie withdraws her hand, drops her spoon in her bowl and carries both over to the sink, turning on the tap. Jisoo knows if she looked back, she’d see Jennie focusing intently on washing them clean as she says, “I know how they will. They’ll hate it. Me. Again. Did you know they have a— a hashtag _just_ for that?”

Maybe she’s expecting an answer, but Jisoo doesn’t dare turn around and she imagines that Jennie isn’t facing her, either, when she continues, “Sajangnim is releasing info to the public tomorrow morning. I guess you can decide then if you think I deserve it, or if you hate it too.”

When Jisoo finally does look over her shoulder, all she sees is the silverware glistening on the rack, set out to dry. Jennie is long gone.

\----

YG drops the news on some random, small-name website first, probably to test the waters. Nevertheless, the internet blows up immediately.

Jisoo wakes up early just to check her phone for it, and there Jennie is, splashed across the front page of every search engine and social network, trending worldwide and in thirteen different individual countries.

The reactions can be sorted into three major categories. First, there’s the minority: Jennie’s devoted fans who are thrilled by the announcement. Jisoo’s English still isn’t that good, despite what Jennie endlessly declares to the contrary, but she doesn’t need to read the all-caps posts feel their elation.

They’re followed by the conflicted ones, a group Jisoo thinks most Blinks probably fall into. They’ll support Jennie but wish that he’d give the entire group a comeback— written in much stronger words.

The last group is also a minority, but an _extremely_ vocal one. Jisoo has no plans to repeat what they say, because it’s vile. And the worst part is that a lot of them claim to be fans.

They aren’t fans. If they were, Jennie would be here, slipping her arms around Jisoo’s waist from behind as the older girl slices furiously through this mango, each stroke of the knife thudding against the wooden cutting board that Jennie had insisted would match their dorm decor perfectly. Not tormenting herself by reading through Twitter and Instagram like Jisoo _knows_ she is, too afraid to come out and face the world.

An eternity ago, even before the promise they’d made, she and Jennie sat in a sauna together, vulnerable and ducking each other’s gazes. Jisoo told Jennie, _you’re going to make it_ , and she meant it.

So how can Jennie think that Jisoo could ever hate her for doing exactly that?

She’s so far off from the truth that it’s almost funny, but Jisoo isn’t laughing. Where’s the punch line, huh? When will it all finally be over?

One moment Jisoo’s scooping up the pieces of fruit onto her knife, so she can’t fathom why in the next, she’s wiping desperately at her eyes until the tears stop.

Jisoo doesn’t cry, after all. And besides, nobody wants to eat a salty mango.

\----

An hour later, someone finally manages to lure Jennie out of her room, but it’s not one of them. It’s YG.

The four of them get the message at the same time, just like always. _All BLACKPINK members_ , it reads, _Urgent meeting with YG Ent. CEO. Your manager will pick you up in thirty minutes’ time._

Jisoo isn’t able to motivate herself into moving for over five minutes, but as the clock ticks closer, she manages to pull herself out of lethargy and get changed. When she finally steps out of her room, she can hear Chaeyoung and Lisa’s hushed mumbling to each other in the next. Jisoo doesn’t spare a minute to eavesdrop, opting to head straight through the kitchen and living room to stand outside of a familiar door.

Jisoo knocks. “Jennie?” If she doesn’t come out, Jisoo swears, she’s going to break down this door.

It seems like she’ll have to. But just as she’s about to leave to search for a screwdriver or anything to pick this goddamn lock, it clicks and the door flies open, crashing into the spring stop on the opposite wall and bouncing back towards its shut position, but it’s blocked from closing all the way.

Jennie emerges from the dimness of her room, where all the lamps are out. She glances at Jisoo, briefly, and for the first time in days there’s not a hint of tears there. Her face is inscrutable, peculiarly blank.

She’s got the same Chanel scarf wrapped around her neck as a week ago at the airport. Jisoo is reminded of the mask that had covered over half of her face, which she’d at one point reached up to adjust around Jennie’s ears, and realizes that even then she could read Jennie’s expression better than she can now.

Her hair is combed straight over her shoulders, a touch of lipstick hides any marks her teeth might have worried in, and her outfit is simultaneously elegant and lovely. Jennie is professional, composed, put together; Jisoo would go as far as to say that she looks _perfect_ , even.

(but haven’t they already established that nobody, not even Jennie, is perfect; and if she’s so immaculate on the outside right now, then that means, that means there has to be a flaw Jisoo’s overlooked; a crack, a fracture, something missing maybe, inside—)

“Let’s go,” Jennie says quietly, sweeping past her. The hem of her shirt brushes by Jisoo’s hip, her foot skims across the side of Jisoo’s slipper ever so lightly, but in reality Jennie doesn’t touch Jisoo at all.

It terrifies her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This isn't the end of the fic, because it just kept getting longer as I wrote and I decided to break it into three chapters.
> 
> To those of you who are/have been reading BTWCHUD— possibly the worst abbreviation I've ever seen, let's just say my other work— I WILL continue it and update soon, I promise!!! Also, yes, this fic is obviously Jensoo and not Jenlisa, but I haven't abandoned that ship (even if it's sinking hard?? feels bad). please leave me some love via kudos or in the comments! Always appreciated, thanks again ~


	2. love him

Nine days later, and here they are again.

The car ride was strained, to put it lightly. Jennie took the passenger seat, and their manager, used to petty squabbles or childish bartering for that spot, looked at them sidelong when nobody objected. The entire trip, Chaeyoung stared determinedly out the window, Lisa stared down at her phone, and Jisoo stared through the side mirror of the vehicle at the girl in the front.

Jennie wasn’t sleeping, but she had her eyes closed and wouldn’t have noticed Jisoo anyway. Even now, they’re only half-open as she rests her head on one hand, like she’s drowsy or bored or simply paying no mind to YG. But Jisoo knows she takes in every word as he drones on and on about public opinion, fan opinion, and even investor opinion after their recent announcement.

YG pauses to heave a sigh; Jisoo feels a tendril of resentment curl its claws around the pit of her stomach: what right does _he_ have to act like this has taken any toll on him at all, sitting behind this desk with the power to make or break their careers, hardly having to lift a finger.

But what he says next nearly makes her forget it entirely. “So, taking this into consideration, I have come to a decision. Each one of you will prepare individual songs to be released after SOLO. The release dates, of course, will depend on the reception of Jennie’s solo, as well as other groups’ comebacks…”

Under the overhang of the desk, Jennie’s fingers are drumming against her knee restlessly, incessantly, though the rest of her doesn’t so much as twitch. Jisoo has to fist her own into the material of her skirt to keep herself from reaching out and lacing them together.

She’s always found Jennie’s hands intriguing, has picked up through years of thorough attention what every tiny motion, every slight fidget means. They’re the most telling part of her; Jennie isn’t fully an introvert, but she’s definitely more about actions than words, so that’s— yeah. Hands.

Right now, her movement is jarringly dissonant, scattered, rhythmless. It taints the air with apprehension.

“I think it’s best if the next one is released maybe March of next year, perhaps,” YG’s saying. “The preferable choice for the second soloist is—”

“Chaeyoung-ssi.” Jennie sits up straight, drawing everyone’s attention. She does tend to do that. “It should be her, right? As main vocal.”

“... Rosé, yes,” he finishes, evidently perturbed by the interjection.

Jennie slouches back into her seat, satisfied, and succeeds at avoiding any eye contact by inspecting her nails thoroughly. From a distance, Jisoo does the same; they’re now bitten down until there’s nearly no white: marks of anxiety on the other girl that make prickles of nervousness climb up her own spine.

On Jisoo’s other side, Chaeyoung lets out an unsteady breath and starts, “I—” but cuts herself off at that.

“You don’t seem as excited as I expected.” Sajangnim frowns, clasping his hands together, and leans forward over the desk— a rare occurrence in itself. “Is everything alright, girls?”

“Yes,” Jennie and Jisoo say, much too quickly but in unison the same.

Jisoo chances another swift glance at her. Jennie doesn’t return it.

Meanwhile, YG looks at them both with an emotion akin to sympathy, even more foreign on his face than anything he’s said or done today. Jisoo thinks, _he has to know_ , has to know what he does to them, what he’s doing to them every single time. Companies are supposed to protect their artists and support their groups, not leave them to crumble on their own, but all their CEO says is, “Dismissed.”

And with that, he’s back to flipping through those worn-out papers. Jisoo takes the risk and doesn’t bother with a bow on her way to the door; just like last time, just like every time, he’s far too busy to notice her.

\----

After, Chaeyoung is barely audible over the hum of the elevator, “Jennie unnie.”

Jennie feigns deafness, examining the floral patterns of the carpet until Chaeyoung swallows and looks down too, but she undoubtedly hears what’s said and more than that, what is not. They all do.

_Thank you. I’m sorry._ That’s kept in, saved for later maybe, because those are words too big for this place. But Jennie is small enough with her shoulders hunched and her back pressed into the handrail to fit a thousand times over, so when Chaeyoung says her name like that, it echoes repeatedly off the metallic walls before fading out into blankness.

Jisoo fixes her eyes on the little black rectangle just above the array of buttons. Green digits flash back at her tauntingly as they descend: slower than a free fall, faster than a cherry blossom petal.

4\. 3. 2.

1.

A countdown to the loneliest number.

\----

Jisoo doesn’t even know how Jennie can try to pretend that everything’s alright when it clearly isn’t.

Okay, so she’s not really. She’s been studiously ignoring Chaeyoung and even poor Lisa, for the entire day, ever since the meeting, not that they’ve had much time to interact anyway. Jennie leaves for London tomorrow to shoot her music video, and she’s spent the last couple hours cooped up in her room packing.

Jisoo’s here now, too, passing her another folded top that she takes with a, “Thank you,” and an unbelievably fake smile plastered on her face. It’s a facade Jennie hasn’t mastered despite years of practice under the watchful public eye, and another reason for people to roll their eyes and call her mean.

(Hypocrites.)

That aside, this— this is what Jisoo means. Around her, at least, Jennie isn’t acting like nothing’s wrong. But she’s not addressing the problem either; and if she flies off to another continent for a week, in the midst of this, it’ll just help to widen whatever rift they’ve so carelessly opened.

She might not be good at pretending, but if there’s one thing Jisoo discovered about Jennie at the start, it’s that the other girl is stubborn enough, tenacious enough, _driven_ enough to persevere with even her weakest abilities until she’s finally satisfied.

_How long can she keep this up?_ Jisoo wonders as Jennie zips up her suitcase and thanks her yet again in a subdued tone. _A couple days? A week? A month?_

Certainly not forever. They’re bound to reach that point eventually; when spidery threads and white lies aren’t enough to hold everything together anymore, when something finally snaps.

\----

Jennie returns home from London four days later, late at night when most of the members are asleep. They would have waited up for her, but Jennie hadn’t messaged any of them the entire time she’d been away, except the occasional vague reply when Jisoo texted to check if she was still alive. And not one of those so much as mentioned the time of her flight.

So her arrival would have been an affair of little fanfare, were Jisoo not wide awake in bed, trying to convince her mind to shut off. It’s a difficult task when this position has her staring directly at a photo of the four of them she framed on her dresser, so she flips to face the opposite wall instead, which is blissfully blank.

Precisely at that moment, she hears a stifled crash and a low curse from somewhere outside her room. Her thoughts immediately jump to burglars, crazy fans, that one horror movie trailer she hadn’t skipped in time; and like one of the idiotic characters from those films, she gets up to check.

It isn’t a serial killer, but one thing that Jisoo can make out is a black mask wrapping around the side of Jennie’s jawline when she peers around the corner of her door and sees her bending over to pick up a suitcase off the floor. And somehow Jisoo is afraid anyway, afraid of the weariness etched on her face, of how Jennie’s legs tremble as she straightens up.

“Jennie?” she says, disbelieving. This is not— this should not, cannot be—

“Go back to sleep, unnie,” Jennie says without looking at her. But how can she, when even Jennie’s voice seems to be on the verge of giving in? Jisoo moves to help, but before she can even leave the doorway, Jennie stops her in her tracks. “I said, go back to sleep.”

She sounds so hollow, so flat that Jisoo whispers, “Okay,” something giving way inside, and shuts the door, turning around to her own room. Outside, she hears the wheels of the suitcase rolling down the hall. Jisoo lets herself slide down the door and hugs her knees to her chest, buries her face in her arms and tries very, very hard not to cry.

\----

It happens like this.

It’s much, much later that night, and this time Jisoo is in bed and a lot less awake than earlier. She’s halfway to sleep, lost in that murky land where barely-formed dreams scamper across her mind and away again every time she pulls herself out of the mud to grasp at their memory, when there’s a muffled _click_. If Jisoo opened her eyes just a crack, she’d see the shadow of the door shifting across her nightlight.

But she doesn’t, and so when the bed dips and an arm settles shyly over her waist, Jisoo can only stiffen involuntarily, shaking off the added weight in a panic. She’s still mostly asleep, really, and it takes her far too long to register that it’s Jennie saying her name in a timid, uncertain whisper.

“Jisoo unnie?” Jennie shrinks away at the unexpected rejection, breaking the remaining contact between the two of them. “I wasn’t trying to… I’ll go if you want me to.”

_No,_ Jisoo thinks, _I want you to stay_. But that feels too raw, too honest even though they’ve said it before; now it’d only serve to chase her away and so she chokes it straight back down.

Silence is not the right path either. Jisoo realizes this a moment too late when Jennie’s breath audibly hitches behind her. “I know you’re awake. Please say something. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

Jisoo is the talk show star, the mood-maker, the member that never shuts up, so why is her tongue suddenly frozen to the roof of her mouth?

Then.

“Do you hate me too, Jisoo?”

Jisoo tangles the blankets with how fast she rolls over. Jennie’s staring back at her with pupils dilated in the darkness, catlike in their gleam but only because of the sheens of water clinging to their surface.

So many years later, and yet somehow every single step has been leading them right back to the beginning.

Even here, at the very precipice, at the zero hour, Jisoo finds that she can say nothing. And Jennie takes the lack of an answer as an answer in itself, closes her eyes and squeezes them tightly shut until the tears are forced down her cheeks. “Please don’t. I won’t be able to— I can’t—”

Her voice cracks around it; Jisoo instinctively pulls her closer and Jennie is evidently too exhausted to resist. She’s shivering but almost feverishly warm, her hands burning imprints into Jisoo’s skin with how desperately she clutches at the other girl’s bare arms. It’s enough to melt the ice caging in her words.

There’ll be no promises this time, just a declaration, a statement of undeniable truth. It might not be the most important one, but it’s a confession nonetheless when Jisoo hugs Jennie to her chest and murmurs, “I don’t. I could never.”

The collar of her pajamas grows damp as Jennie buries her face in the crook of Jisoo’s neck and sobs outright, muffled by the cloth and the weight of everything. “Jisoo. Jisoo unnie, I’m _sorry_ —”

Her whole body shakes with the force of it; the metal frame of the bed rattles against the wall and Jisoo irrationally hopes that Chaeyoung can hear it through the thin plaster separating their rooms.

God, she hopes the _world_ can hear it.

\----

The next morning, before her alarm even goes off, Jisoo wakes up to Jennie curled up beside her, one arm pushing the corner of the blanket up to her chin and the other outstretched against the mattress, slim fingers mere centimeters away from Jisoo’s chest.

There’s an unexplainable sense of deep relief flooding her to the tips of her toes, but it’s like helium in a way that makes her feel like she’s floating rather than drowning. Really, it’s too early to be relaxing like this, but how can she not? Something just might have shifted back into place last night.

What little light manages to force its way past the curtains’ shield barely even reaches far enough to tickle at Jennie’s cheekbone, much less spill over the rest of her face. It doesn’t illuminate, doesn’t lend any new brilliance or glow to her features, but she doesn’t need any of that to be ethereal.

Yeah, it would be so easy to stay here, watching the repetitive rise and fall of Jennie’s chest with her own in juxtaposition, breathing each other in; until the rest of the world blurs around them and the last thing left in her vision is Jennie, features soft in sleep yet clear-cut against cotton covers and cloudy colors.

But time wouldn’t wait for them to catch up, so instead Jisoo lifts the blanket just enough to slip her legs out from underneath and over the side of the bed, taking care not to disturb the other girl as she stands up. She cancels the alarm she’d set on her phone, too. Jennie could use some extra sleep.

She tiptoes towards the door; it’s not even fully closed, having been left open a crack after last night’s unexpected visitor. And when Jisoo pulls back on the handle, she comes face-to-face with another one.

“Jisoo unnie,” Chaeyoung says, not loudly but it’s staggering in the absence of other sound.

Jisoo shushes her out of reflex and regrets it just as quickly. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk.” Chaeyoung takes note of her hushed tone and copies it, albeit with some confusion. As Jisoo tugs the door open a little wider, her eyes fall on the sleeping girl in the bed. “… Um, I guess I’ll come back some other time.”

With that, she starts to retreat at an incredible speed, but this time Jisoo hurries after her and doesn’t miss when she catches Chaeyoung’s arm. “No, it’s fine. Just… give me a second, okay?”

The younger girl nods and draws her coat, a sponsored one she’d evidently thrown on as temporary protection against the cold of dawn, tighter around herself. Jisoo retraces her steps back to her room, checks that they haven’t woken Jennie from her slumber, and gently shuts the door. Then she heads down the hall to where Chaeyoung waits.

It isn’t a rare occurrence for Jennie to stay the night in Jisoo’s bed— if anything, it’s the opposite— but Jisoo knows that the circumstances of today have made Chaeyoung react quite differently than all the other instances she and Lisa have jokingly teased the older two for this particular habit.

“What did you want to talk about?” says Jisoo, though she has her suspicions.

There’s no immediate answer. Chaeyoung picks at a thread poking out of her sleeve for a few moments, then looks up at her. “Is she okay?”

Jisoo doesn’t have to ask to understand. “Yeah. Well, I mean, she will be.”

“That’s… good.” Chaeyoung searches for words. Her gaze slides over Jisoo to somewhere down the hall: the door at the end, Jisoo thinks, the girl behind it. “I never meant to hurt her.”

“I know.”

"Does she?”

Does she? Jisoo hesitates. “I’m sure she does. The two of you… Don’t worry, everything will work out, believe me. We’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be fine,” she echoes, somehow changing the statement into a question. “We have to be, don’t we, unnie? We’re idols. We signed up for this.”

“Chaeyoung-ah,” says Jisoo, quietly; not too quiet, but the other girl doesn’t seem to hear. Jisoo catches the quiver in her jaw and thinks of Jennie again, falling apart in her arms like she was built to break open.

And maybe she was. The thing is, people like them, they start as clay. Dull, lifeless, uninteresting— but most of all, so soft, so easily molded. And that’s exactly what happens; they’ve been made into something so much more beautiful, but also something so much more fragile, shattered at the lightest touch.

“Sometimes I’m not sure if it was worth it,” Chaeyoung whispers to Jisoo like it’s a traitorous secret. Maybe it is. “I used to tell myself that I’d do anything to be where we are today, but now…”

God.

They’re so _young_.

Jisoo is not. Jisoo is the oldest, and they are her responsibility.

“Park Chaeyoung, stop,” she says firmly, taking her forearms and shaking them a little. “We’ve worked so hard to get here. And look around you, do you know where that is?”

Chaeyoung surveys the empty corridor. “Jisoo unnie, I don’t, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“We’re on top of the world!” she declares, dropping Chaeyoung’s arms and gesturing at the ground with large, dramatic sweeping motions. “See? We’re standing right _on top of the world_.”

It’s not her best, and it’s nowhere close to funny. It’s the opposite, really, but Chaeyoung makes an obligatory sound of amusement that somehow manages to lack even an ounce of humor. Alright, so maybe it was a pathetic attempt, but Jisoo still finds herself frowning mournfully at the bland response.

Ironically, that sets Chaeyoung off. “Unnie, come on,” she snickers, “that was so lame! Admit it.”

“Whatever,” Jisoo sulks, but she can’t help but crack a smile, and then it’s over for the both of them. Suddenly they’re wheezing with laughter, right there in front of the entryway to the living room, with only the paintings lining the hall to stare down at them in judgement.

“This– isn’t– funny!” the younger girl gasps out between giggles that clearly contradict her words.

“Who cares?” Jisoo braces an arm against the wall as support, then takes a deep breath and sings in very off-key, accented English a song she’s heard maybe once in her life, “ _I’m on top of the world, ‘ey!_ ”

That’s enough to sustain their glee for another few minutes until the door next to them swings open and a grumpy-faced, messy-haired Lisa, with her pajama top half-unbuttoned, pokes her head out.

“Unnie, what are you guys _doing_?”

Jisoo shakes her head and smiles; Chaeyoung darts past her and tugs Lisa out of her room. “Lisa-ya!”

“Chaeng, what…?” the maknae flounders, arms coming up to catch Chaeyoung as she stumbles and trips forward into Lisa’s chest, still laughing breathlessly. She looks at Jisoo with confused helplessness.

Jisoo grins back at her and promptly turns on her heel, striding down the hall. She has other tasks to tend to, and with these two here? There’s nothing left for her to do.

\----

Jennie’s already stirring when Jisoo finally gets back to her room.

“Hey,” Jisoo says, sitting down on the bed next to her. “How are you?”

Jennie pulls insistently on the side of her shirt until she surrenders and lies down next to her. “Tired,” she tells Jisoo like it wasn’t already obvious. Her vocal chords are clearly as barely-awake as the rest of her, because she clears her throat before adding, “But better.”

Jisoo props herself up on an elbow to study her. It’d somehow escaped her notice before that Jennie is, somewhat unexpectedly, wearing the same pajamas as her. It’s a matching set of silky things some fans had given them, but over a year later, Jisoo’s the only one out of the four still wearing them nightly.

Jennie seems to notice her curiosity, because she blushes and fiddles with the cuff, tracing the silhouette of a crescent moon printed there. “They’re… cute?”

There’s still traces of sleep in the rasp of her throat. It might make Jisoo’s pulse thrum a little faster than it should. “You’re cute,” she says. A startled expression is Jennie’s only response, and Jisoo averts her gaze, lips quirking up despite herself. “Clingy Jendeuk. It’s time to get up.”

Jennie seems oddly disappointed, but she gets up anyway, padding across the floor in these fuzzy animal slippers she’d bought on impulse a couple months back. Jisoo briefly wonders how they ended up in _her_ bedroom; then it registers that Jennie must have brought them over last night.

Something about the thought of her traversing the distance between their rooms in those shoes, in these pajamas, in the dead of night… She’s brought out of her reverie by the creak of her door as Jennie opens it and steps out.

“How was London?” Jisoo calls after her, in the hope that she’ll turn around, and she does.

Jennie’s expression grows distant. “They asked me to cry. It wasn’t hard.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Jisoo unnie, I think, maybe now…” Jennie refocuses, looks at her like she wants to say more, but Jisoo will never know. “Really, thank you.”

Then all that’s left is the white wall of the corridor outside, boxed in by a thin wooden frame. It’s like a photograph, of a blizzard on colorless sky or of absolutely nothing; a blank slate, picture-perfect.

\----

It’s Jennie’s last photoshoot, and right when she’s heading out when Chaeyoung stops her, pressing a compact, cylindrical object into her hands.

“Take this,” she says in answer to Jennie’s unspoken question. “The weather forecast says rain.”

It’s ordinary and unimpressive, a simple black umbrella found in any supermarket down the street, but Jennie takes it as something holy, clasping her hands around the handle like a prayer. Jisoo reads reverence in the lines of her palm and the crease of her thumb as she runs it over the polyester covering.

Jennie meets Chaeyoung’s eyes for the first time in days. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” answers the younger girl automatically. There’s a brief hesitance, then she goes on much less automatically, with a certain amount of determination, “Jennie unnie…”

Whatever Chaeyoung wanted to say is cut off by Lisa shouting from the other room, “Unnie, manager oppa just texted to say he’s parked outside and honking his horn at you!”

“Tell manager oppa,” Jennie says, the barest hint of a smile on her face, “that we live fifteen stories up and there’s no way I can hear him honking from here.”

Lisa appears in the entrance to the living room. “Well, must be why he texted.”

“Wow.” Jennie surveys the three of them, standing around her. “The whole crew’s here to see me off.”

Always, Jisoo thinks, but says, “Yeah, you should get going. Chaeyoung-ah, did you want to…?”

“Oh! Right.” But it seems like she’s lost the spontaneous courage from earlier, because she just finishes awkwardly, “Um… have fun.”

“I will,” Jennie promises, bemused.

Lisa takes the ensuing pause as an opportunity to barrel across the carpeted floor and tackle her in a hug, the force of the collision spinning them around so that Jennie’s facing away now. “I’m so excited, unnie! The song’s gonna be great!”

“Thanks, Lis,” she squeaks out. “Still have two weeks though. Also, some— air—”

With those two occupied, Chaeyoung shoots the eldest a somewhat rueful look, like she’s expecting a reprimand for that failed attempt, but Jisoo just offers her an _ah, well_ shrug. They’ll get there eventually.

After all, they’re young. They’ve still got time.

The next instant, Lisa is disentangling herself from the embrace as Jennie fumbles for her phone, which is blaring loudly from her pocket. “Yep, he’s calling me now. I gotta go.”

“Okay, bye!” Lisa says, chipper as ever. “Chaengie, let’s go. Jisoo unnie can go down with Jennie.”

Jisoo tries not to think too hard about the inflections placed on that last sentence as Chaeyoung allows herself to be dragged away, and then it’s just her and Jennie, umbrella in hand, standing by the door.

“Well,” she says. “Shall we?”

The elevator ride is longer than their last, but Jennie has her arm looped around Jisoo’s and her head resting on the older girl’s shoulder the entire way down, so it isn’t lonely at all.

\----

It doesn’t rain that day. It won’t rain for weeks.

\----

Jennie does not have freckles.

Jisoo knows this very well. But here she is, staring at the lightest dusting of them over the bridge of Jennie’s nose and the rise of her cheekbone.

**roses_are_rosie** has the top comment on the post, a simple **😘.**

Jisoo looks at the razor blade hanging from Jennie’s neck, waits for the sickening sense of horror to churn her insides and stain her throat with acrid fear. It doesn’t come.

They’ll be okay.

\----

“Be more specific,” Jennie says, toying with the hammer she’s holding and ducking her head in a way that’s endearingly shy. “What do I do most frequently?”

Jisoo considers her— black hair stark against a light grey sweater that’s slipping off pale skin, monochrome behind the cartoonishly-colored hammer— and looks straight into the camera. “She invades my bed and talks to me. Then she refuses to leave! She stays there to sleep.”

At her side, Jennie collapses into a fit of delight, clapping the hammer to her hand in a form of applause rather reminiscent of their lightstick. “You got it!” she beams, raising her hand for a high-five.

Jisoo closes that distance, meeting her hand in mid-air. It’s less than a second of contact, but Jennie’s palm is warm and sends pinpricks of electricity skittering down her spine, so Jisoo thinks— maybe, even if she has to live like this forever, through stolen moments and fleeting touches with one-sided meanings— this can be enough.

\----

**Jisoo [18:43]** **  
** jennie

**Jisoo [18:45]** **  
** stop ignoring me

**Jisoo [18:45]** **  
** you leave me no choice

**Jisoo [18:45]** **  
** Jendeuk.

**Jisoo [18:46]** **  
** J

**Jisoo [18:46]** **  
** E

**Jisoo [18:46]** **  
** N

**Jisoo [18:46]** **  
** D

 

**Jennie [18:46]** **  
** UNNIE NO

 

**Jisoo [18:46]** **  
** E

**Jisoo [18:46]** **  
** Ha knew it

 

**Jennie [18:47]** **  
** i told you not to watch it!!1!

 

**Jisoo [18:47]** **  
** why its cute

 

Jennie takes so long to reply that for a second, Jisoo worries she’s legitimately mad.

 

**Jennie [18:50]** **  
** its EMBARRASSING and you know it

 

**Jisoo [18:50]** **  
** :(

**Jisoo [18:51]** **  
** whatever you say, jendeuk.

**Jisoo [18:51]** **  
** j e n d e u k. jendeuk.

 

A little bubble appears, like Jennie’s going to text her back, and then it vanishes.

Jisoo’s phone rings a minute later.

“Kim Jisoo,” Jennie says, in lieu of a greeting, “I cannot believe you watched it after I _specifically_ said not to. This is basically betrayal!”

“What happened to unnie?” Jisoo laughs back. “Anyway, over five million views on Instagram and I’m still not allowed to see it? I’d be the only one at this point!”

“Whatever, _unnie_ ,” she snarks. “This isn’t going away anytime soon, is it.”

“Probably not. How’s your family?” Their time is split between old homes and new dorms and the busy in-betweens of idol life. Jennie’s spending a few days at her mom’s house after most of the preparations for her solo have finished; all that’s left now is to wait.

“They’re—” Jennie sighs, “— the same, I guess. Still telling me to take better care of myself, you know, same old. Hmm, Kai’s a bit different, I think he gained some weight.”

“They’re right, though,” says Jisoo, ignoring the obvious distracter at the end.

In the background, she hears a bark, followed by mixed static and giggles. She guesses that the reportedly-fatter Kai has just jumped into Jennie’s lap. “You worry about me too much.”

Jisoo bites her lip and decides against bringing up how things had been with them only a week ago. Her reply ends up too heavy anyway. “I can’t help it, Jennie-ya. It’s a side effect of caring.”

The truth: Jisoo loves helplessly. Loving Jennie Kim is not a choice— perhaps it was, at one point, but now it is so deeply ingrained that it is simply another part of her, the natural order of things, like how water flows downhill.

The heart is, after all, an involuntary muscle.

“You’re such a sap, unnie,” Jennie laments, but there’s an undercurrent of fondness to her words that belies them. “One of these days I’m going to expose you and your sappiness to Blinks.”

“Go ahead. It’s not as if they don’t know.” And Jisoo’s setting herself up for disappointment, but: “Besides, you know you love it.”

“Only a little,” she says, totally deadpan.

They fall into comfortable silence then, until Jennie shifts and breaks it, murmuring something in a voice so low that all the speaker transmits is an unintelligible mutter.

“What?” Jisoo asks.

“I said,” Jennie speaks up, a little bit stronger, a little bit braver, “I miss you.”

Jisoo’s about to tease her mercilessly (it’s been less than two days?) when she imagines Jennie on the other end— nestled with Kai in her favorite green armchair, one hand idly scratching behind his ears and one hand holding the phone to her ear, waiting— and she says back, “Yeah. Me too.”

\----

“How’s Jennie unnie?”

She and Lisa are eating lunch at three in the afternoon. It’s the best time to avoid being recognized, right between lunch and dinner, when the cafes and restaurants are mostly empty save for a few stray waiters and the occasional customer. Extra insurance over the hats and masks covering most of their faces.

It’s the worst time to avoid interrogation like this, though, when it’s just the two of them. (Chaeyoung has gone out with other friends.) Lisa cocks her head to one side and nudges her foot under the table. “Well?”

“Why not ask her yourself?” Jisoo wonders. It’s a genuine suggestion.

Lisa shrugs. “I dunno. She’s with her family now, yeah? I don’t want to disturb them.”

Every once in a while, such off-handed remarks remind her: Lisa is thousands of miles from home. They might have built one of their own here, as a group and a family in their own right, but there is home and then there is _home_. Lisa lives scattered between two worlds— so thoroughly Korean in her surroundings, her speech, her living; but so fundamentally Thai in the heart beneath those layers.

So many sides to her, so many facets. It took Jisoo ages to understand all— well, most— of them. Lisa is cheerful and loud, thoughtful and curious; now her eyes are shadowed by the brim of her cap, her hair gleams golden in the sun, and she says to Jisoo, “Besides, you’ve talked to her. How is she?”

Not, _what about you, have you asked her?_ _Do you know how she’s doing?_   Just, _you've talked to her_. A statement; after all, Lisa already knows.

Sometimes, Jisoo thinks that maybe, Lisa _knows_.

“Good,” she says. “Jennie is good.”

Jennie is good. It’s the only answer she can ever give.

\----

The last day gives her a video call. Jennie’s lying on her bed, over the blankets; she holds the phone up so the camera points down on her and asks Jisoo something unusual. “What do you think is the worst possible scandal that can happen to an idol?”

The question is odd, but Jisoo contemplates it, thinking back. “Maybe drugs? I feel like it depends on how the company handles it. Like, Big Bang sunbaenim went through some, but compared to Bom unnie…”

Jennie hums. “I see. Anything else?”

“There’s been a couple of racial or patriotic things: Jay Park, SNSD’s Tiffany, Tzuyu-ssi— but they all seem to be doing fine now. Oh, a really bad one was T-ARA’s bullying scandal, even though—”

“Been there, done that,” Jennie says, wryly. She drops the phone face-down on her chest so all Jisoo can see is a black screen.

That’s one of the _stupidest_ things people have ever said about Jennie, and wildly inaccurate too, and Jisoo hates dwelling on it to the extent that she chooses to continue without so much as addressing it. “I can’t think of anything else at the moment. Why?”

“Just curious.” Jennie plucks the phone off her shirt, only to put it on the bed next to her, and now Jisoo’s looking up at the bedroom ceiling. “Is that it?”

“I guess,” she says. “Nothing else has really destroyed careers… I mean, things like dating scandals will get you a lot of hate from netizens for maybe a few months, and then eventually nobody cares anymore.”

“Yeah.” Jennie sounds off, like she’s talking from far away, though she probably hasn’t moved from her previous position. There’s a lull in her speech that Jisoo feels like should be significant, but for the life of her she can’t figure out why. When she finally speaks again, it’s to say, “I think—”

A door slams in the background; Jisoo jumps. Jennie grabs her phone and hops off the bed. “Mom’s back. I gotta go eat dinner. Talk to you later?”

Jisoo’s left staring at the “Call Ended” screen, at Jennie’s smiling profile picture, and then she shuts off her screen and buries her face in her pillow with a groan.

They do talk later, but Jennie never does say what she was thinking.

\----

It’s nearly midnight, and Jisoo’s sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, aimlessly browsing through news channels and variety shows and the occasional movie broadcast. Jennie should be home from her parents’ place soon; she texted Jisoo to say she was leaving over two hours ago and the trip was, what, three?

Jisoo isn’t sure. It’s been a long day; even off-schedule, there’s been so much to do recently. CFs, magazine photoshoots, fashion shows— she only wishes more of it was _music_.

Anyway. The point is, she’s tired. Clearly. Her thoughts are not as filtered, not as controlled as they usually would be. Maybe she’ll take a quick nap; there’s at least forty minutes before Jennie gets here. Jisoo settles back into the arm of the couch, swings her legs up on the cushion beside her, and closes her eyes. Forty minutes. She’ll wake up in time.

She wakes up forty-five minutes later to quiet footsteps on carpet and the rustling of clothes somewhere near her head. Jisoo breathes in, out; her eyes flutter open just enough to find Jennie kneeling in front of her, gradually easing out the remote that is nearly slipping from her faltering grip.

“You’re home,” she mumbles, in a moderate state of delirium, voice rough with sleep.

“I’m home,” Jennie agrees. Her hands linger on Jisoo’s for a few seconds more, then let go; Jisoo doesn’t have the chance to formulate a protest before they’re back, gentle fingers threading through her hair, pushing back a few stray strands that have fallen to tickle her nose.

“Missed you,” Jisoo says, and she really must be tired if her eyes are already slipping shut again.

It’s okay. She doesn’t need them open to feel Jennie’s smile in the dark. “I heard.” She presses a careful kiss to the crown of Jisoo’s head when the older girl stirs slightly. “Don’t worry, I missed you too.”

The man on screen exclaims, incredulous, _Two for the price of one! A once-in-a-lifetime deal!_

Jennie reaches for the remote and clicks him away. That’s the last thing Jisoo sees: Jennie, bathed in the kaleidoscopic colors of the television, something impossibly tender in her gaze as she looks over at Jisoo.

“Go back to sleep, unnie,” she says, and it’s so different from the last time. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

She is.

\----

After the morning, during lunch, they have an argument about it. Kind of. Not really.

It starts off like any other conversation, with casual inquiries about Jennie’s vacation and her commute home, and halfway through Jisoo finds herself saying indignantly, unsure how they got here, “What! What do you mean?”

“I mean,” says Jennie, sounding almost exasperated, “I know you care about me. About us. But unnie, don’t you think you should take care of yourself more too?”

“I do!”

“Mhm,” Jennie hums, clearly a skeptic.

Jisoo picks at her food with one chopstick. “What, you don’t agree?”

“Not really,” she says, pushing her own bowl to the side and propping her chin up on her hands. “Think about it: before the comeback, you were basically living in the studio. Even after we all left, you stayed there. That late-night practice the last week? I waited up for you but fell asleep before you came back.”

“You’re the one who couldn’t even be bothered to sleep in her own bed. Still can’t, actually.” It’s Jisoo’s weak attempt at lightening the mood. “And you’re telling me to take care of myself?”

Jennie remains unfazed. “Speaking of waiting up, Jisoo, like last night? You were literally barely conscious on the couch: no blanket, no pajamas, no anything. What if you caught a cold? You should’ve gone to bed instead of waiting for me until, what, 1 AM?”

“12:30,” Jisoo corrects, despite knowing it’s a rhetorical question. To be honest, she was so far gone last night that she has absolutely no idea what time it actually was. It’s petty, she’s aware.

“Big difference,” says Jennie dryly. “The point is, of course you wanted to look after me like always.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it with everything lately, and… sort of, yeah. Not in itself, but sometimes I feel like you love other people—”

( _You_ , Jisoo fills in privately.)

“— more than yourself. And you shouldn’t.” Jennie pauses for breath. She has a tendency to talk fast in situations like these, so it must mean something that her next words are chosen and spoken deliberately. “Jisoo, you’re so important. I mean that. You matter more to us— to me— than I think you realize.”

Jisoo stares at her. Her chopsticks clatter against the side of the bowl, forgotten.

The faintest tinge of pink steals over Jennie’s cheekbones as she looks down and away. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s true. Without you, where would we be?”

“I—” Jisoo stutters, clears her throat and finds that her own face is inexplicably warmer than usual.

“Promise you’ll take better care of yourself, unnie?” Jennie meets her gaze again; her expression is open and earnest, the blush spreading to the tips of her ears. Cute. “For me?”

How the fuck is she supposed to say no to that?

“Fine,” she grumbles, only to discover that Jennie is still giving her That LookTM. “What now?”

“You have to seal the deal,” Jennie says, absolutely serious. She moves aside the vase in the center of the table, sticks out her arm in a motion that absurdly makes Jisoo think she wants to arm-wrestle, at least until she notices the outstretched finger. “Pinky promise?”

Jisoo’s chest is almost too tight to speak, so she just nods. Reaches across the table and links her pinky with Jennie’s just like all those years ago, and commits herself to it. “Okay, I promise.”

Jennie beams wide, in that famous smile of hers. Maybe it’s better like this, in the privacy of their dorm, when Jennie is not idol-beautiful but rather ordinary-beautiful, regular-girl-beautiful; when she’s just Jennie or even Jendeukie, not Jennie of BLACKPINK. She’s lovely.

The moment is rudely interrupted by two loud maknaes bursting into the kitchen.

“It worked!” Chaeyoung cheers. “Good job, Jennie unnie!”

It dawns on Jisoo, then. “Oh, I _see_. You guys were all in on this, huh?”

She sends Lisa, who’s standing somewhat sheepishly behind Chaeyoung, a pseudo-dark look, like, _I know you’re behind this_. The taller girl shrugs. “We all agreed an intervention was needed.”

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “You guys make it sound like I’m an addict or something.”

“An addict,” Jennie smirks, “to overworking yourself.”

“ _Real_ funny, Jendeuk.”

“For what it’s worth, unnie,” says Chaeyoung, “I have to agree with Jennie. We care about you a lot, too! You don’t have to shoulder all the responsibility.”

“Though maybe we wouldn’t word it as intensely as she did.” Lisa adds unnecessarily.

That reminds Jisoo that she’s still sort-of holding hands with Jennie, and she quickly drops her own to the table, cheeks hot with embarrassment for the second time. “Next time we come back from anywhere, I’m running in here and locking the whole lot of you outside.”

“You won’t,” Jennie says with certainty.

She lets out a half-laugh. “No, I won’t.”

Lisa rests an arm over her shoulders and gives her a tight, one-armed hug. Chaeyoung pulls the nearby chair over and leans into Jisoo’s side. She should feel crowded, but she doesn’t.

Across the table, Jennie takes her hand again and laces their fingers together. She looks up at Jisoo with a smile that’s smaller and more timid than before. Shy.

Jisoo squeezes once, reassuringly, and returns it. She’s never dared to, never dreamed to, never allowed herself to— but for the first time, she thinks that maybe, just _maybe_ …

She’s not alone in this.

\----

There are eight days left until the release of SOLO, which Jennie has played for Jisoo exactly once— she finds it fitting, if a bit on-the-nose— and Jennie’s not in bed when she goes to wake her up.

_where are you?!?!_ Jisoo texts her. _thought solo preparations were over?_

Jennie responds almost instantly. _still have rehearsals tho. gotta stay fresh!_

_hmm_ , Jisoo types. _why are you on your phone?_

_yeah_ , is the reply. Yeah? What a helpful answer. _i gtg soon, unnie. btw, i’m not coming home until like, super late, cuz i’m planning to hang with some friends._

_oh_.

_don’t u dare wait up for me!!!_ Jennie sends, and disappointed as Jisoo is, she can’t resist a laugh.

_ok, jendeuk_.

\----

Jisoo swears, she really wasn’t waiting up for Jennie this time. She’s got a weird habit of eating meals in the middle of the night, even though Chaeyoung’s the one who has that reputation among their fans.

So it’s about eleven in the night, and she’s sitting at the dining table blowing lightly on a bowl of ramen, when she hears the front door open. Jisoo glances up from the noodles to find Jennie right there, leaning against the entryway wall with a scarf tugged up over her mouth, and the incessant buzz that’s been occupying her mind lately fades to a barely-noticeable hum in the background.

It’s been like this for as long as she can recall. If Lisa has several aspects and faces, Jennie is a mess of contradictions: she is at once the quiet and confusion of Jisoo’s heart; a touch from her is exhilarating, too many become exhausting, and Jisoo would not give it up for anything else in the world.

Jennie looks drained in a more physical way, the shadows under her eyes bleeding into those hiding away in the creases of the fabric covering the lower half of her face.

“Jisoo,” she says, close to indistinct through the cloth, but it’s her name and it’s louder than the roar of any crowd they’ve ever drawn. “You stayed up.”

A sudden rush of emotion surges up through Jisoo’s chest, a feeling that is comforting in its familiarity but catches her off guard each time nevertheless, jostling her heart until it knocks painfully against her ribcage. It’s what compels her to stand and step closer, too close, to bring up her hand and tuck a lock of hair behind Jennie’s ear in a terrifyingly intimate gesture.

They are face-to-face. There’s never been the height difference between them that suddenly developed with the maknae line a couple years before debut. They have always been on the same page.

Is it really so stupid, then, to be in love with your best friend?

She lets herself touch, lets herself smooth a thumb over Jennie’s cheekbone. Wool grazes the underside of her hands; Jennie blinks, in surprise or simple recognition. She does not have freckles. Jisoo can pick out each distinct shade of brown in her eyes, the mole over her left, every fine detail of her lashes; can tell that Jennie’s holding her breath because the scarf does not flutter at all.

Jisoo, too, is hardly breathing as well. Maybe neither of them want to disturb this.

She slips the tips of her fingers over the edge of the scarf, feels the remnants of the cold night outside lingering on Jennie’s skin, soft against the slight crook of her knuckles. The kitchen is warm. The air smells faintly of ramen. The lights are a dim, wavering yellow.

It’s a strange kind of gravity that has drawn her to Jennie from the beginning, and so Jisoo lets gravity take over, pulling the scarf down along with her hands to settle in the niche of the other girl’s collarbones.

She has fallen, fallen, fallen for years; and now, everything slows to a stop; time is suspended in the stillness of the room. Jennie is the one who has just walked through the front door, so why does Jisoo feel like, after all this time… this is when she’s finally come home?

Jennie is so close. Just a few inches more, and they’d be, they’d be— Jisoo believes, Jisoo doubts, Jisoo _hopes_ , desperately— please, _please_.

“Jisoo,” Jennie whispers. The word engraves itself on her skin, her soul: Jennie owns every part of her.

_Jennie_ , she thinks. _Jennie, it’s you_.

She is the first to lean in.

It’s hardly enough to be called a kiss. Jisoo feels hyper-aware; it feels like a cliche to say that Jennie’s lips are soft, but they are. Jennie is contradictions, is everything Jisoo had imagined and could never have imagined; Jisoo has dreamt of this moment in her sleep and every waking hour, and Jennie—

In an instant of separation, Jennie draws the slightest intake of breath, barely even a sliver, and blinks.

Blinks again.

“Jisoo,” Jennie gasps out, horror soaking her name. Or are those tears? “No, we didn’t— no, no—”

The first “no” sends everything tumbling down; each one after is simply another useless strike to what has already been ruined, and yet Jennie continues to repeat it, over and over.

“No,” she says, stumbling back. It’s less than a meter, but suddenly the space between them is endless when before they’d been so close Jisoo could almost feel her heartbeat. “I can’t do this.”

“Jennie, wait.” Jisoo stretches a hand out helplessly, but the distance is only widening.

“No,” Jennie says again, a final, finishing blow, and flees.

A door slams. Jisoo’s left behind, alone, sitting down numbly in front of a bowl of cold noodles that she can’t bring herself to touch. Instead, she bites her lip hard, blinking away the stubborn tears that arise.

It’s funny. She could’ve sworn that for a second, before Jennie turned and ran, she’d kissed Jisoo back.

Contradictions.

\----

Here’s the thing: in hindsight, how could she have been so blind?

Jennie stands in front of the three of them, resolute, arms folded across her chest. She meets Chaeyoung and Lisa’s gazes unflinchingly— not Jisoo’s, certainly not Jisoo’s— and says, “There’s something I think you should know.”

Usually, it’d be up to Jisoo to respond, but today, after a pause, it’s Chaeyoung instead. “What is it?”

Jennie takes a deep breath. Steels herself. Even after everything, Jisoo can read her expressions like an open book, and Jennie is telling the truth when she says, “I’ve been talking to someone recently. Jongin— well, Kai. From EXO.”

“Exo?!” Lisa blurts, then covers her mouth. She doesn’t even try to hide it when she glances at Jisoo.

Jisoo doesn’t acknowledge her. She’s watching Jennie. “And?”

Jennie answers her, but she doesn’t really answer _her_. “And I like him a lot. And we’re dating.”

Chaeyoung drops her phone.

\----

Here’s the thing: that conversation about scandals from a few days ago, seemingly centuries now?

They’d talked about dating, hadn’t they? And Jisoo hadn’t bothered to ask when Jennie had said, _I think…_ and left it unfinished, because she hadn’t considered it important enough. Hadn’t thought it within the realm of possibility.

And for her, it hadn’t been.

(Here’s the thing: if she had asked, would Jennie have told her?

Jisoo could never have guessed: Jennie would’ve rolled over and picked up the phone, propping it up with one hand; would’ve looked to one side, away from the camera, and told her—

Jisoo never, ever imagined this: _I think I might take that risk._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. three months later and i'm back!!! sorry for the super long delay, i kinda lost motivation on january 1st LOL but decided to come back to this and well, here it is! i hope you enjoyed, i hope chapter 3 will be out much faster.
> 
> references that i don't want to take credit for haha: imagine dragon's "on top of the world", kafka's "quiet and confusion of my heart".
> 
> follow me on twitter at: [longlive_ff](https://twitter.com/longlive_ff)


End file.
